


Ugh this fucking song is sinking into my soul

by kalika_999



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Cabins, Cowgirl Position, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Cooped up as they wait for their radio transmission, Brock and Jack figure out a way to pass time.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: MCU Kink Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639597
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Ugh this fucking song is sinking into my soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).



> Who encouraged me to title this fic with words I used to describe how I felt about the Grimes track "So heavy I fell through the earth". Obviously I wrote this while listening to it on repeat. 💙
> 
> Written for the 'Position: Cowgirl' square for my MCU Kink Bingo card.

It was October, and the rain drummed along the glass, a storm coming in soon. They were lucky enough to not have to be out much today, mainly staying put and waiting for a radio transmission. 

It was boring work and sometimes Jack wondered if there was anything worse than leaving them cooped up and doing nothing. They weren’t even sure if the weather shift would keep their radio going, sometimes it held up great, but being where they were, Jack wasn’t too sure this time around. 

The wind was picking up, most of the noises inaudible aside from the occasional howl picking up, or a slight vibration along the walls of the cabin. Mostly it was music filling the room, low moody electronic music that Jack wasn’t completely a fan of but let run. Usually, like right now, it wasn’t exactly what was on his mind at that moment anyway.

The place smelled of various scented candles that had been lit and weed, a smoky haze drifting through the air. The only light was from the flames flickering all around the room throughout the cabin, on any spare surface. The candlelight created irregular shadows, unusual and curious, across the wooden walls. Shadows that usually had Jack reaching for his gun, but not this time. This time he was focused elsewhere.

Today all his attention was on Brock. Beautiful, strong and weirdly vulnerable Brock.  _ His  _ Brock.

Jack was spread out on the bed, on luxurious silk sheets he didn’t know they’d even have out here, head resting on a mess of soft pillows lined against his headboard. Even over the music though, it creaked beneath their weight. Jack’s hands were on Brock’s waist, his thumbs making absent sweeps across hip bones, fingers not gripping, just caressing and letting himself explore the expanse of tanned skin and curving around Brock’s ass whenever he felt the need to. Mainly he was letting Brock set the pace as he sat on his lap, sinking down onto his cock.

He couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t doing this.

Brock’s head dropped forward, rocking his hips, wearing nothing but a thin dark plaid shirt,  _ Jack’s _ shirt, the one Brock had been making fun of for most of the day. It barely held at his shoulders, slipping a little bit at a time as it hung open to reveal his chest, a sheen of sweat across his skin. Jack could do nothing else but stare in awe, only just barely able to hear the music over the pounding of his heartbeat, and the moans slipping from Brock’s lips. He loved to see him debauched like this, euphoric and lost in a trance. There were only two things that made Brock glaze over like this, made him sweaty and loose and completely pliable. Weed, and sex. Right now, he had both at his leisure.

Groaning softly, Brock rocked his hips, ass flush against Jack’s hips as his cock nudged against his prostate. The joint hung from his bottom lip, a thin trail of smoke coming from the end, eventually drifting into nothing. Jack ran his hand across Brock’s stomach, a trace of fingers roaming over each bump and curve and it took all of his willpower not to thrust upwards, not to flip Brock over and fuck hard into him until he came as he was seeing stars. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, not when Brock looked so beautiful like this, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his eyes hooded with pleasure, Jack’s thumbs roaming upwards to circle hardened nipples.

Brock rolled his hips again, sliding up so Jack’s cock almost slipped out of him, catching his rim, before he sunk back down onto it, drawing a long and high-pitched groan from his lips. He watched Brock’s cock twitch at the feeling, smearing a thin line of precum across his taut abs and Jack’s hands slid down along ribs, unable to rid the need to _touch_. 

These were moments when nothing seemed bad or terrible in their lives. With Brock’s head thrown back, a lit joint hanging from his mouth, flushed and sweaty, his own cock hard and leaking against his stomach as he fucked himself back onto Jack’s. The candlelight flickered, an array of light dancing across Brock’s sweat-slicked skin, defining his body’s lines in an almost unearthly way. 

“Fuck.” Brock breathed when the head of Jack’s cock brushed his prostate again, sending him into a full body shiver. His muscles tightened, clenched around him, drawing a hitched breath, and then a low groan from his lips. Jack dug his nails into the soft skin of Brock’s ass, grunting with each roll of Brock working his hips. His movements were agonizingly slow, setting Jack’s body ablaze with need as well as pleasure that began to dip into frustration. Not that he minded, his mind feeling foggier than how the cabin already was, telling himself to keep enjoying the ride.

Jack reached up, stealing the joint for himself and taking a drag while Brock fell forward, fingers tangling in the sheets by Jack’is head, clutching them tight as he moved his hips faster, fucking himself back on his cock. The bed creaked and groaned under the movement as Brock’s eyes slipped closed.

Jack stared at him through the partial darkness as he exhaled a lungful of smoke and set the joint in the ashtray at the night table, a grunt escaping as he snapped his hips up to get Brock’s attention. 

“Open your eyes.” He growled. “Look at me, sweetheart. I wanna see you.”

Brock opened his eyes, just barely, too blissed out to focus on him completely. It took all of Jack’s strength not to cum right then. Brock’s usual coppery colored eyes were eclipsed completely by the mixture of his drug-induced high, his lust, and the darkness attempting to engulf them completely. 

“Fuck.” Jack gasped, tightening his grip on Brock’s hips, spreading his fingers along his ass to give himself a little more access, to get in there a little more deeper. “You’re so beautiful, so beautiful. You drive me crazy, you know that? I can’t stop touching you, I just have to all the time, need you all the time, Brock. You’re just, _God_. You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna cum on my cock, huh baby?”

Brock nodded with a whimper, seemingly almost demure like he was admitting a secret, his eyes sliding shut again. Jack didn’t blame him, knew the weed made him languid and lazy, almost completely boneless but not all the way, that was after. He started rocking his hips faster, ass slapping against Jack’s hips, the sound of skin-on-skin almost drowning out the music. Brock’s cock was all shiny with precome and so painfully red and swollen. Jack knew, just from the sight, that he’d cum untouched, just from riding him alone. Jack shifted his hips, only a little, if only to ensure he was hitting him in just the right way to get him there faster.

Brock gasped, letting out a high pitched whine, and Jack knew intimately that it meant he was about to near his limit. Jack took another hard hit from the pot, his free hand cupping the back of Brock’s head to pull him down closer, fuck into him a little as he drew Brock in and mouths inches apart, blowing the smoke past his lips and shotgunned what they had left.

Brock inhaled the best he could, hands scrambling off sheets and pressing them against Jack’s pecs to keep steady. He let out a high and a broken whimper, every movement of hips filling the cabin with debauched and filthy moans, a litany of curse words came out after Brock could blow out the smoke and usually Jack would’ve laughed. Laughed because the shit they were doing was kid’s stuff, immature and not what guys like them did, there were other kinks and dirty ideas they could act on, but he was having fun, as was Brock, making sinful noises above him at every shift and every slide while constantly sinking down onto thick cock.

Jack slid his hands roamed around before they were back to Brock’s ass, keeping a firm grip as Brock sped up, his movements going sporadic and irregular, pulling whines and groans from them both. The knot in Jack’s gut wound tighter, his body alight as he started to thrust his hips upwards, fucking into Brock’s tight heat and chasing his release.

“Brock, I’m- “ He groaned, edging on the precipice of orgasm, cock throbbing in desperate need to let go.

Brock looked at him, eyes glazed over and blown wide. “ _Jack_.” 

It was uttered like a prayer, like the last call of a desperate man, like it was everything and all that was holy, broken and soaked with lust, and it was enough to push Jack over. He arched his back, hips flush against Brock’s ass, and came hard inside him.

Brock fucked him through it, continuing to ride on his cock and draw every bit out of him. He was staring down at him, trembling from the force of holding back his own orgasm just to watch him cum. 

“Let me see you.” Jack panted, and with one last rock of his hips, Brock did. He cried out his name and threw his head back, sticky warmth shooting out between their bodies.

Brock was always a sight like this; straddling his lap, riding his cock, sweaty and flushed and debauched against the candlelight and high from the sex and the weed, trembling for him. It was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get bored of, watching as Brock collapsed on him, collecting himself before gingerly climbing off and dropping down next to him on the bed, eyes dancing across the shadows at the ceiling. “Jack?”

“Shh, you’re fine.” Jack murmured, wrapping his arms around Brock as he pulled a blanket over him to keep away the chill that would soon take over if he didn’t get covered up. He knew Brock needed to know he was okay after coming back down from the adrenaline especially with the amount of pot still in his system, not that Jack minded making sure he was fine. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him, and pressed a kiss to his sticky, sweat-slick skin. “Gonna get you cleaned up and then we can sleep, alright?” 

Brock nodded sluggishly, his eyes refusing to open now that they were shut and Jack got that, foregoing the washcloth over in the bathroom and instead reaching for one of their discarded t-shirts. Brock was out before Jack could even clean himself up and he spent a small moment watching Brock sleep, candlelight continuing to cast shadows along his skin.

Pressing a kiss to his mouth, Jack let his forehead rest at Brock’s temple as he lingered, replaying the past couple of hours back in his head and allowing himself a smile, nose drawing against cheek. 

He let himself afford the luxury of seeing Brock at his most vulnerable, keeping him tucked in close with featherlight touches across his skin until sleep was just too strong to shake off and then he only pulled him closer, looking forward to the morning light that would come to them when they’d wake up. 


End file.
